Dracula of the Apes 2

that he was not clicking as much as he used to. She had learned long before that her son made the sound when he was curious or puzzled, the way some nervous apes chewed their fingernails; and so she hoped that the death of Poomak had not made Gazda aware of his own mortality to the point that he would be afraid of life, or that he would dwell upon each loss.

But Eeda did not know that there was more to her son’s silence than a fear of death. True enough, that had marked him, but the night ape was perplexed. He could not forget or understand how he had escaped the leopard.

Ever since that day by the pool Gazda had pondered the experience. On one hand he wished he could have stayed to help his friend—knowing full well that would have likely cost him his life; while on the other he wondered if staying would have even been possible, for he had had no control over whatever force had worked upon him.

How had he crossed the pond? Even mighty Goro could not have jumped so far. Gazda often stared at his upturned hands remembering how they had seemed to change. Had he floated or flown on the air?

Did it happen to apes when they were frightened? He had never observed such a reaction in anyone but himself. He wanted to ask, but he suspected the others would only think him crazier—he knew the stories. They already thought there was something wrong with his head because he slept in the day and not at night.

If floating in the air did not happen to the other apes, then it would only be another thing that was different about Gazda, and another reason for him not to fit in with the tribe.

He needed to talk to someone about what had happened, but Kagoon could barely recall the incident, and Ooso seemed strangely affected by it.

Gazda had first thought she was just saddened by the loss of Poomak, but there was more. The little she-ape appeared to be frightened and would barely communicate with him.

It was almost half a year before she told him more, but her sidelong glances and fearful looks finally drove him to ask: “Is Ooso afraid of Gazda?”

They were high up in the branches overlooking a wide clearing where the tribe had gorged on berries and now lazed under a clear afternoon sky. Gazda did not like the bright light of the sun on his bare skin, so he kept to the side of the tree that was in shadow.

He had come from his sleeping place to find Ooso on her perch where she had carried a handful of grass seeds to nibble. The she-ape had seemed uncomfortable to have him near and had moved farther into the sunlight to continue her snack.

“Poomak is dead,” she said, her brown eyes moist.

Gazda nodded. He too missed their friend. “But Gazda is sad not frightened.”

“Gazda frightened Poomak!” Ooso said. “No face in pond—no Gazda in pond. When the leopard screamed—Gazda changed!”

“Changed?” Gazda asked, creeping around the tree trunk to the very edge of the shade.

“Poomak was surprised when Gazda changed and the leopard killed him for it,” Ooso said.

“But Gazda only jumped!” the night ape declared.

“Gazda not jump, he flew!” Ooso gave him a glance as she munched the seeds. “Like a bat.”

Gazda thought it was a funny thing that Ooso would say he flew like a bat. There were many types of the strange flying beasts in the jungle, and they were among his favorite prey to hunt. The small creatures had skills in the dark that seemed equal to his own, and they often escaped him because of it.

“Ooso’s a bat!” Gazda countered childishly. He was trying to be serious and yet she seemed to be joking.

But the she-ape shook her head.

Gazda frowned at his friend, annoyed.

“And Ooso saw a bat, too!” She held her hands up before her, flexing the fingers in and out, as she turned toward him. “There was fog and light before the bat and then Ooso saw Gazda in the tree across the pond.”

“No! Ooso teases,” Gazda said, tremulously. He remembered the strange sensations. “Gazda jumped away from the leopard.”

“Ooso not tease and Ooso sees that Gazda knows it too!” The little ape nodded her head, scratching the thick fur by her left ear. “Poomak saw Gazda change, and he was eaten.”

Gazda slumped against the tree trunk, and Ooso’s expression softened. She reached out as the night ape did the same, and the pair brushed palms in friendship.

“If Gazda changes again,” she said, with the beginning of a smile. “He warns Ooso first.”

“Gazda will never change,” the night ape said, puffing up, but feeling relief at his friend’s acceptance as she crept into the shadows where they embraced. “Gazda is Ooso’s friend forever.”

And soon, the pair of them was grooming each other on their perch, overlooking the tribe in the long grass. The little she-ape also seemed relieved to be his friend again.

Gazda’s mind kept going back to the pond, but he could feel Ooso’s body relaxing at his side. He would never talk to her about it again.

Then he wondered if perhaps old Baho would know something about apes changing.

Ooso cooed soothingly, turning on the branch so that Gazda could pick loose hairs from between her shoulders.

Relaxing as he groomed her, Gazda had just begun to frame a question he might ask the former silverback when the branch under him shook so hard that he lost his balance and fell.

Ooso whistled shrilly, and shrieked.

But Gazda had just managed to grab the end of a long slim branch that grew below them. His fingers slid on the slender limb, and he had just got a grip with both hands, when the tree shook again, and the branch vibrated wildly.

As he kicked and struggled to reach up for a better hold, Gazda realized the other apes were shrieking as they bolted out of the